


Eat Your Heart Out

by Lecavayay



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Food as Romance, M/M, Tyler is a hockey player, Victor is a Billionare, delayed gratification
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-11
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:40:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26955235
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lecavayay/pseuds/Lecavayay
Summary: The moon is full, they just beat the Bruins, and Tyler has been left unsupervised.
Relationships: Victor Hedman/Tyler Johnson
Comments: 5
Kudos: 62
Collections: Lightning Strike to the Heart 2020





	Eat Your Heart Out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TylerAndAlexAndCeddyOhMy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TylerAndAlexAndCeddyOhMy/gifts).



The moon is full, they just beat the Bruins, and Tyler has been left unsupervised. He cannot be held responsible for the choices he makes or the person he’s currently dancing with. 

To be clear, it is a man and he is incredibly tall. 

The club is perfectly dark and full of the prettiest people Tampa has to offer, colorful laser beams twisting and turning above their heads. The guys have a table somewhere behind a velvet rope with bottles of liquor and mixers. Tyler’s had a few vodka sodas, is what he’s trying to say. 

Tyler can feel the sweat along his back, dampening the tight black t-shirt he’s wearing. His muscles ache as he keeps his hips rocking to the beat, putting on his best moves even though his quads want to be in bed. Not tonight. Tonight, Tyler is getting some dick. 

The man he’s dancing with has hands and those hands curve around Tyler’s waist and _holy shit_ they’re humongous. They span most of his sides, squeezing and moving Tyler just where he wants him. Pulling him back into the cradle of his hips. 

Tyler wants to melt under those hands and feel the power behind those hips. 

As if on cue, the giant man rolls his body in the most gorgeous way. Tyler nearly sees stars as he grinds back against him. _Is that your dick, or are you just happy to see me_ , he thinks, drunkenly. 

He wants to turn around and climb him like a tree, wrap his arms around his neck and stick his tongue in his mouth. You know, normal sexy stuff. 

He wants to see his face, too. Can’t imagine it’s anything less than perfect. Tyler tries to turn in the man’s hands but he’s held still, long fingers digging into his hips. _Oh_. That’s a way better feeling, being held in place. Put where someone wants him. 

Leaning back, he lets the man take his full weight. He looks up to try and get a glimpse, satisfied to find a man bun and well groomed beard along his jaw. He can’t see much else in this light but he thinks there’s a pair of dark-rimmed glasses resting on his nose. Classy. 

Classy and hot and _sexy_. 

Tyler’s overwhelmed. 

And then suddenly Tyler is alone. “What the fu--.”

“There you are!” Pally shouts directly in his face. “We’ve been looking for you! I think we’re going to go home!”

“Fuck you!” 

“What?” Pally yells, clearly confused. 

Tyler shakes his head and shoves Pally toward the VIP section. He nearly trips on the velvet rope and flops down onto the sweaty leather booth. “You’re the worst.”

“What?” Pally asks again, wrinkle between his eyebrows. 

“You scared off my man. He was perfect.” 

“The tall guy?”

“Yes! The tall guy!”

“He did look nice,” Pally says, checking his back pocket for his wallet and phone. “The Lyft is almost here.” 

Tyler pours himself another messy vodka soda and slurps down half of it before a bouncer arrives at the table. 

“A gentleman asked me to pass this to you,” he says, offering Tyler a business card. 

It’s sleek and black with glossy raised lettering on the front and a minimalist logo. _Viking Industries_. Tyler turns it over and holds it up to his face to read the name and phone number. _Victor Hedman, 727-555-0977._

Victor is a hot name. Vic. Heddy, if he was a hockey player. Probably. 

“Victor is a hot name, right?” He follows Pally into the crowd and toward the door. 

“What?” he says over his shoulder. 

“Nevermind!” It’s a hot name. For a hot person. With nice business cards and a man bun. Tyler’s going to fall asleep happy tonight. 

//

Tyler wakes up less happy than he fell asleep. He’s definitely got a hangover and a headache pulsing behind his eyes. He feels dry. 

Water. 

He needs water and a gatorade and some painkillers. Thank god it’s an off day. 

Stumbling into the kitchen, he squints against the bright Florida sun beaming through the back windows. There’s not much in his fridge but there is a cold gatorade which is really the most important things. It’s orange, which isn’t great but beggars can’t be choosers. He sets the bottle of painkillers on the counter next to a small black business card. 

Victor Hedman. 

Ah, yes. That wasn’t a dream. 

He turns the card over in his hand, flicks one of the corners. 10:27am the morning after is probably too early to text. Definitely too early to call. He doesn’t want to come off needy. 

Even though, like, he _is_. 

His phone pings and for one fleeting moment he thinks maybe it’s Victor. 

_Call of Duty in 20? I need to kill something._ It’s Kuch, always so pleasant in the mornings. 

_Yeah, I’m in_ , Tyler replies just before Pally says the same. Killing things is fun. And it’ll distract him from just looking at the business card all day. 

“Should I call him?” Tyler asks over his gaming headset. “Or maybe a text?”

“Find his instagram,” Kuch says. “And slide into his DMs.”

“Why would I do that if I have his phone number? That’s creepy.”

“Google him,” Pally suggests. “Did you google him yet?”

“No.” Tyler has considered it multiple times. It feels invasive. But then again, he did give him his full name and business. “Should I?”

“Yes,” they both chorus through the headset. 

“Well okay then, damn,” he says with a small laugh as he shoots Kuch in the chest. 

Google brings up a schmorgus board of information. For starters, Victor Hedman is a Billionaire. His business does something with steel and shipping and Tyler like, doesn’t really care but damn. Victor Hedman is loaded. 

Beyond articles about his charitable donations and all of the dog sanctuaries he’s built, his social media is filled with shirtless pictures on yachts, shirtless pictures by pools, and shirtless pictures in the gym. Yeah, he definitely works out. 

He accidentally likes a yacht picture from the summer and wants to throw himself off his balcony. He unlikes it immediately and hopes it was quick enough to not even register. He surely gets a bunch of notifications that he won’t even notice. 

Tyler throws his phone on the bed and goes to drown himself in the shower. 

//

“Okay, I’m going to text him,” he tells Pally after practice the next day. 

“I mean look at him,” he says. “You should have texted him that night.”

“Shut up.” 

He writes and deletes about seven text messages before settling on _Hey, this is Tyler from Neon the other night._

“Send it,” Pally says from over his shoulder. “Hit send.”

He can’t. What if Victor doesn’t remember him? What if he’s waited too long and missed his chance? What if his instagram transgression was too much for Victor and he doesn’t even like him anymore?

What if he doesn’t like him and he just thought Tyler needed steel to build something charitable…

Kuch grabs his phone and hits the send button. “Boring text, but it should work.”

“Nik! Uhg.” He snatches his phone back and sees the little _delivered_ next to his boring text. Well, now all he has to do is wait. 

Waiting is not a strong virtue of his. 

It takes a full four hours for Tyler's phone to ping with a message from Victor. He pounces on it, opening it immediately, read notifications be damned. 

_Hello Tyler, I’m glad to hear from you. I wasn’t sure if you got my card._

He feels bad momentarily, he should have texted sooner. Pally was right. His phone chimes again. 

_I’d like to take you to dinner, if you are available tomorrow night._

Tomorrow night they have a game and then they fly to California for a week. Shoot your shot, Tyler. _I have a work trip that starts tomorrow but I am free tonight._

He bites his lip as he hits send. Too forward. He should have just said no and that they could see when he gets back in a week. Shit. He should not be left to his own devic--

_7:30pm. Send me your address, I’ll send a car._

“Oh fuck.” A _car_. That’s not regular rich person stuff. That _really_ rich person stuff. Tyler’s pretty rich and he wouldn’t send a car to pick up a date. He’d do it himself in his own fancy car he spent too much money on. 

He sends Victor his address and desperately hopes a serial killer doesn’t show up instead. Then he dials Pally’s number. 

“I’m going to dinner with him tonight,” he says before Pally gets a full hello out. 

“Oh?”

“He’s sending a car.”

“Oh!” 

“I need you to come over and pick out something for me to wear.”

“You hate my style.”

“I do not! I’m too nervous to pick something myself and I need someone with rich taste to help.”

“Kuch is the one with rich taste.”

Tyler huffs. “Please?”

“Yes, okay. I’ll come dress you.”

“You’re a lifesaver,” he says, momentarily relieved. 

//

Pally shows up early and scours Tyler’s closet for his finest items. In true Pally style, he sets out three options: classic black suit with a white shirt, a blue suit with brown accessories, and the pair of pinstripe pants Tyler never wears. 

“If you want to be a little outgoing,” he says, indicating the pinstripes. 

“I do not,” he replies, already excluding that outfit from the running. “I think the black. Right? Go classic?”

“Wear the paisley tie, then.”

Tyler tries not to show horror all over his face. “I was thinking no tie.”

“He’s sending a car,” Pally says, face squinting up like he licked a lemon. 

“No tie and an outgoing pocket square, how about that?”

He sighs. “I suppose.”

Pally selects a lightning blue pocket square with a delicate pattern and folds it up in the perfect way to slip into Tyler’s jacket pocket. “Not too much for you?”

“Not too much.” He can totally rock that pocket square. “Did you pick the black pants that are tailored?”

“Within an inch of their life, yes.”

“Perfect.” His ass looks great in those.

//

The car arrives exactly when Victor said it would and Tyler is not ready. He’s wearing his best underwear, his hair looks great if not a little gel-heavy, his beard is trimmed, and his clothes look great. But he is so not ready for this. 

Dates are awkward and small talk is hideous. Tyler’s already overwhelmed by Victor. How is he going to sit across a table from him? For like, an extended period of time? Dating is awkward and he wants no part of it but oh _man_ does he want a part of Victor. 

The driver opens the door for Tyler and he slides in, half expecting Victor to already be in the car but he is not. The luxurious backseat is empty save for a bottle of champagne and a glass with a strawberry clipped to the rim. 

A little lubrication doesn’t hurt. 

No. _No._

He puts the bottle back down. He is a gentleman and not a drunk. He will not drink a bottle of champagne on an empty stomach unless he wins the Stanley Cup. He will _not_.

Well, he may have already done it like, a couple times but the rule starts now. He’s not showing up to this date drunk. 

He eats the strawberry and watches the city pass through the tinted window. 

//

Tyler shouldn’t be surprised when the driver pulls up outside of Bern’s Steakhouse. It’s definitely romantic and well within Victor’s budget, he assumes. His stomach grumbles at the thought of a perfectly cooked steak. He wonders if he can get away with ordering a porterhouse. 

The woman at the hostess podium smiles when he says he’s meeting Victor Hedman. “Right this way.” 

He follows her through the restaurant all the way to the back where a small table is set up and the man from the bar is sitting. His hair is down, curling a little around his shoulders and he’s wearing, Tyler’s certain, a very nice suit. The watch on his wrist glitters in the dim lighting and he can’t imagine how much that cost. 

“Sir, your guest has arrived,” the hostess announces and Tyler feels like he’s meeting royalty. 

Victor pops to his feet to pull out Tyler’s chair with a soft smile. “Allow me.”

Tyler’s chest flutters as he sits. 

“It’s nice to see you again, Tyler.” The sound of his name on Victor’s tongue is almost too much. 

“You too. Thanks for inviting me out.”

Victor looks absolutely stunning and all Tyler can think about is climbing him like a tree. “I’m hoping you like steak,” he says, picking up a menu. 

“Of course.”

“And wine?”

Tyler is less versed in wine. “I wouldn’t say I have a great palate for it.” 

“Hm. I can change that.” There’s almost a twinkle in his eye. “Red?”

“Yes.” Tyler almost can’t keep up. He’s literally being wined and dined and his dick is so into it and like, Victor might be too good for him. Too posh and too rich and far too refined. Tyler’s got money but shit, he’s a hockey player. He drinks beer and eats junk food and doesn’t do his laundry as often as he should. 

“You don’t have to look so nervous,” Victor says. “I’ll take care of you.”

Fuck. “I just haven’t been out with anyone in a while.” 

“Busy work schedule?”

“You could say that. Especially this time of year.” 

“Hm.” 

Victor goes back to perusing the menu so Tyler does the same. The porterhouse still sounds delicious. He’s pretty hungry. He could put a big dent in it. And Reese will like the bone. It’s not out of his own price range for a fancy, splurgy dinner so it’s fine. 

“I was thinking we could do the tasting,” Victor says. “What do you think?”

Tyler thinks the tasting is almost a hundred dollars a person. “Sounds amazing.” 

“Perfect.” He waves a waiter over and places their order. “And a bottle of the Mondavi Pinot Noir, please.” 

Tyler only bristles a little at being ordered for but honestly, Victor is so smooth he doesn’t mind. 

“Sorry,” Victor says as if he can read minds. “I’m so used to taking charge.”

Tyler has to bite his tongue lest he say something ridiculous like _please take charge of me._ Instead, he smiles politely and looks up at him through his lashes. 

Victor licks his lips and leans back in his chair. “So tell me more about yourself, Tyler.” 

The small talk portion of the night goes well and it’s not too long before their wine comes out. It’s delicious, as far as Tyler can tell. Victor swirls his glass and sticks his nose in it before taking a sip. He locks eyes with Tyler over the edge of his glass. 

Fuck. 

The air around them sizzles with a little bit of something and Tyler waits in silence until it settles. “You’re a good dancer.”

“Thank you,” he says, straightening the napkin in his lap. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

Tyler lets the memory of the club float through his mind. The hands and the hips and the hot, sweaty chest pressing up against his back. He thinks it would be nice to do that again.

Their sampling platters arrive and it’s absolutely worth every dollar it cost. Tyler’s never had such good meat in his mouth. 

He giggles around his fork before he can stop himself. 

“What?” Victor asks, regal and poised across the table. 

“If I tell you, you have to promise to laugh.” 

Victor smiles. It’s a very lovely smile. “I promise.”

“When I took a bite of the wagyu, my first thought was ‘I’ve never had such good meat in my mouth’.” 

Victor’s laugh is polite but his eyes go dark. “I bet I could do one better.”

 _Fuck_. All the blood in Tyler’s body goes right to his dick. That was absolutely a come on and Tyler is _here for it._ He tries to play it cool, takes another bite of his steak. “I look forward to it.” 

“Save room for dessert,” Victor says, slicing off another piece of beef and popping it in his mouth. 

Tyler always has room for dessert.

//

Dessert, it turns out, is not Victor’s dick in Tyler’s mouth. 

But it is a flourless chocolate cake sundae which is honestly a fine runner up. Especially when Victor takes a scoop onto a spoon and holds it out across the table for Tyler to eat. 

When Tyler reaches for it with his own hand, Victor moves the spoon away. 

“Try again.”

Tyler leans in, purposefully locking eyes with Victor as he wraps his lips around the spoon and slips the chocolate cake into his mouth. He flicks his tongue out to catch a crumb and smiles. 

Dessert continues that way. A bite for Victor and a bite for Tyler, Victor never letting go of the spoon. The connection between them is palpable and Tyler cannot wait to get to Victor’s house or a hotel room or the back of his car and taste the chocolate and wine still on his lips. 

The check is dropped off and Tyler doesn’t even try. He sits back and finishes his wine as Victor pulls out a very heavy looking, very black credit card. It’s easily a three hundred dollar bill and Tyler’s never thought of himself as a gold digger but the way Victor doesn’t even look at the check? That’s pretty hot. 

He might be a little soft around the edges from the wine when he asks, “So is the after party at your place or mine?”

Victor smiles in the most stoic way possible. “Forgive me, but I have an early morning. The after party will have to wait until you return from your business trip.”

“That’s over a week.”

“Is that too long to wait?” He seems amused as the waiter takes the bill and his card. 

“Of course not.” He’d wait a whole hockey season if it meant he got to be in Victor’s bed. 

“A little delayed gratification never hurt anyone, right?”

Tyler swallows. “Right.” 

//

Delayed gratification blows. 

Tyler has never wanted to get off so badly in his life. Not in high school, not with his hot model girlfriend, not the first time he took a guy home. Those experiences _pale_ in comparison to how badly he wants to get off right this very second. 

And Victor didn’t say he couldn’t...you know, do it himself. And they’re not _exclusive._ But something in the way he looked, sitting across the table with his hair and his smile and neatly trimm--

“Ahg!” 

“What the hell?” Pally says, sticking his head out of the hotel bathroom. 

“I just want to fuck and I _can’t_.”

“What? Who says?” He disappears back into the bathroom to finish doing his hair. “We’re literally going out tonight. I will bunk with Kuch if you need me to.”

Tyler sighs. “You’re a great friend and I appreciate it but I just...I can’t.”

“You can’t.”

He flops back onto his bed. “Victor said to wait. That delayed gratification never hurt anyone or whatever.”

“That’s bullshit.”

“I know! But he got in my head and now I can’t even jack off without thinking of disappointing him.”

Pally raises his eyebrows at him. “You’ve got it bad.”

“I almost faked an injury to avoid going on this trip, I’ve got it so bad.”

“You did not.”

“The thought crossed my mind!”

“Tyler.”

“I want him,” he says forcefully. “I want him so badly.”

“And you’ll have him. But in the meantime, you need to get laid. Let’s go.” Pally’s collar is artfully undone, his cuffs rolled up to his elbows. 

“Fine, but I’m not going to have a good time.” 

Pally mumbles something under his breath and Tyler’s pretty sure it was in Czech. He probably deserves whatever it is he just got called. “If you don’t want to get laid, you have to help me.” 

“You don’t need help,” he says as they leave the room. “Look at yourself.”

“Yes, but it’s always nice to have a wingman.”

“Fine,” Tyler relents. His phone buzzes in his back pocket when they reach the elevators. 

“Bet it’s your man.”

Tyler checks the text. It’s from Victor. An artful picture of his naked chest, light streaming over his abs, casting even sharper shadows in the dips of them. “God, he’s so unfair.”

Pally tilts the phone his way. “Yeah. I’d wait for that.”

Waiting sucks. 

//

The rest of the road trip goes well, they drop a game and go into overtime the next night but come away with more than half the points. Can’t complain. 

They’re staying the night in Anaheim before flying out in the morning. Tyler’s almost too exhausted to go out to the bar with some of the younger guys. Almost. 

“Be good,” Pally says from his bed, blankets tucked up to his chin. 

“Aren’t I always?”

That doesn’t get a reply but Tyler has Victor in his pocket reminding him. He wants to be good and wait. 

The bar is a little thing just off the main drag downtown and the guys pile in and take over a table along the wall. Tyler, being the veteran, buys the first round. He sits with his back against the wall, watching all the people milling around. There are a couple girls leaning on the bar in short shorts and crop tops, long blonde hair in loose curls. 

On another night, in different circumstances, he might shoot his shot. 

Even now, he thinks about it. Considers their legs and their hips and their smiles. They have nice smiles. 

As if on cue, his phone buzzes in his pocket and the girls’ smiles slip from his mind. It’s Victor, of course it’s Victor, with a simple text. _Thinking of you_. 

If it was Tyler, he would have sent that text with a dick pic but that’s just him, apparently. No picture accompanies the text but Tyler can imagine Victor laying in his bed with his thousand count sheets pooled around his hips, bare chest on display.

_What time are you free tomorrow?_

Their plane lands around 3 and Tyler’s willing to not even drop his bags off at home before rushing to Victor’s bed. They’ve talked about it once, late at night when they both should have been sleeping, Tyler aching after a hard game. Talked about how Victor might take Tyler apart and he _wants it_. 

_Have dinner with me. 7:30._

Tyler groans. _I’d rather skip right to dessert._

_Patience._

_It’s been a week. I’ve been patient enough._

“Who are you texting?” Tony asks, trying to get a peak of the screen. 

“Fuck off,” Tyler snips with a smile.

“Oh come on, we’re bros!” 

He eyes Tony’s empty pint glass. “Did you chug that beer I bought you?”

Tony licks his lips. “I was thirsty.”

Tyler gets a kick out of that and goes back to his phone. 

_I want to sit across from you in public and know all you’re thinking about is getting my cock in your mouth._

Oh. _Okay, yeah dinner sounds great_ , he texts back, clenching his teeth against the mere idea of Victor teasing him while they eat a fucking fancy ass dinner. He’d probably order coffee or a cake just to drag it out even further. Just to watch Tyler squirm. 

_7:30. I’ll send a car._

Tyler slams his beer and stands. “I’m not feeling it tonight, see you boys on the plane.”

He gets booed as he works his way out of the corner but they can all fuck right off. He needs his beauty sleep. He plans to be up late tomorrow. 

//

Dinner is exactly what Tyler expected. Long, drawn out, and absolutely delicious. They sit in silence once the bill is paid, Victor slowly finishing his port. He doesn’t take his eyes off Tyler, not even when the waiter returns his card and he slips it in his wallet. 

Tyler knows his face is hot, from the wine and the attention. He stares back, though. Doesn’t even blink. 

“How are you?” Victor asks, voice silky like chocolate. 

_Wired the fuck up._ “Perfect.”

He takes the final sip of his port. “Shall I call the car?”

“I thought you’d never ask.” 

//

Victor’s car looks a lot like the ones he sent for Tyler. Black leather interior, dark tinted windows, a partition. 

Tyler waits until they pull out of the parking lot before dropping to his knees in front of Victor. “Please.”

Victor considers it, licking his lips and taking his time. They go around a turn and Tyler leans into the hand Victor holds up before he twists fingers into Tyler’s hair and presses his face to his lap. 

_Yes. Fuck yes._

He mouths at Victor’s suit pants and feels him harden. And grow. And...grow. He almost doesn’t fit in his pants he gets so big under Tyler’s mouth. He moans against the erection, mouth watering at the thought of having it inside him. 

“Don’t be greedy,” Victor says, still holding Tyler against him. “It won’t be long before we’re home.”

Tyler is greedy. He wants every part of Victor. He hums in agreement though. What’s another fifteen, twenty minutes. He can happily sit here on his knees for that long. 

Victor shifts his hips ever so slightly when Tyler opens his mouth to try and take the head of his dick, still constrained by his pants. It’s barely any movement, could have even just been a bump in the road, but it’s enough to get Tyler to preen. Victor might just be desperate like him. 

He wants to know what it feels like to be the object of that desperation. 

Once they arrive and the car pulls into the fancy half circle driveway, Tyler rights himself and they both do their best to situate themselves in a way that isn’t obvious what they’ve been doing. 

The driver opens the door and Victor indicates Tyler should go first. 

The night is just a little bit cool. Not cool enough to take the edge off, but the breeze is nice. Victor’s hand finds its way to Tyler’s lower back and he knows the shirt there is damp with sweat. 

Victor leans down to press a kiss to the side of Tyler’s head. “Shall we?”

As if Tyler would back out now. “Please.”

Victor unlocks the front door and Tyler barely has time to appreciate the fucking grand staircase and chandelier before he’s pressed against the nearest wall and thoroughly kissed. He runs his hands up under the suit jacket Victor’s still wearing and tugs him closer, trying to feel his full weight. 

Tyler lets his head be turned to the side and the column of his neck licked and kissed and marked up with little bites. The scratch of his beard there feels heavenly. Victor kicks his feet apart and slips one of his thick thighs between them. Tyler sighs at the pressure, his dick delighted, and tries to give as good as he’s getting.

He whines, wordlessly begging for more. 

He feels Victor smile against his cheek, his breath hot when he whispers, “What do you want?”

“Anything, please, just anything.”

“You want to get fucked?” He punctuates his offer with a slow grind of his hips. 

Tyler’s head swims. “Absolutely.”

That’s easier said than done – managing all fifty-thousand stairs and the hallway to Victor’s bedroom, stripping out of their clothes without letting each other out of reach, doing away with the six hundred decorative throw pillows resting on Victor’s bed.

But then Victor’s stretched out on his thousand count sheets with one knee bent, foot flat on the mattress, stroking his frankly enormous dick. 

Tyler can’t stop staring. Can’t stop the words from tumbling out of his stupid mouth. “You’re so big.”

Victor seems to like that, closing his fist around the flared head. “Is it the biggest you’ve ever taken?”

Tyler swallows. “Haven’t taken anything yet.”

“Come here, then.” He indicates the space between his thighs and Tyler is _there_. 

He folds himself up and waits for Victor to feed him the very tip of his dick. It stretches Tyler’s mouth wide and he’s only going to be able to take a few inches but _god_ it lights him up. He’s polite and places a guiding hand on Tyler’s neck, not pushing, just resting it there, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. Tyler bobs his head, works his tongue, tries to make it as good as he can. 

“Much better than cake, no?”

Tyler moans around the dick in his mouth. A resounding yes. 

“You’re taking it so well.” His voice has gone just a little breathy. “So good.”

A spark of arousal shoots down Tyler’s spine at the praise. He wants more of it, wants Victor to never stop telling him how good he is. 

“Do you think you can take it? Most people can’t.”

A _challenge._ He pops off just to say, “I’m not most people.” 

Victor’s smile is slow and pleased. “So I’ve gathered. Spread your legs.”

Victor is torturous with his fingers, working Tyler open slowly, stretching him wide on two and then three. Tyler’s just trying to keep his knees steady and his elbows locked, trying not to groan and sigh and beg. 

“Think you can take four?”

 _Holy fuck._ “Y-yeah.”

Victor’s fucking pinky is overwhelming. Overwhelmingly _good_. “OhI'mgonnacome,” he rushes out a mere second before he messes up Victor’s sheets. He moans through an aftershock when Victor brushes his prostate pulling his fingers out. 

“You like to be fucked after you’ve come?”

“Gimme like, thirty seconds,” he pants. “And then please, _please_ put your dick in me.”

Victor encourages him onto his back and Tyler watches him roll on a condom and slick himself up. He’s so greedy for it – the stretch and ache and memory of it for days on end. He might feel Victor for weeks, if he’s lucky. 

“Hold your legs for me.”

Tyler pulls his knees to his chest, feels embarrassed at how exposed he is until the barest tip of Victor’s dick presses against him. “Holy shi–.” The breath gets punched out of him as Victor slides in, fills him up, stretches him so wide he’s sure he’s breaking apart at the seams. 

“Breathe, sweetheart.”

Tyler gasps, throws his head back as Victor rocks out and back in, just a little bit further. 

“Oh you’re so tight,” Victor growls. 

Tyler wants to point out that’s probably due to the fact that he’s wielding a literal tree trunk in his pants but he’s too busy clutching at his shoulders trying to get him closer, angling his chin up for a biting kiss. “More,” he sighs against Victor’s lips. 

Victor obliges, slowly at first, still rocking back and forth, in and out and in just a bit more. Tyler feels...he feels like he’s going to burst or fly apart at the seams. 

“I think,” Victor says, clearly gritting his teeth. “I think you have all you can take.”

Tyler clenches down, so turned on he can barely see. “Then move. Fuck me.”

Victor shifts, really gets his knees under him and thrusts. Stars, stars everywhere, Tyler’s ascending, or possibly blacking out from the pleasure. He wraps his legs around VIctor’s waist and encourages him faster, harder, _more_. 

He braces himself against the headboard and _takes_ it. Victor leans over, covering him fully, and – _fuck me_ – Tyler’s eyes roll back in his head a little as he lights him up on every thrust. 

He can’t be bothered to care about the noises falling out of his mouth as he gets unbelievably hard again. 

“Look at you,” Victor sighs. “You’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Tyler burns at his words, hiding his face in the crook of his arm still braced against the headboard. He cries out when Victor takes him in hand. It’s too soon, he knows it’s too soon, but he lets Victor pull and push a second orgasm out of him with ease. 

He might be crying and all he wants is to feel Victor come inside him. “C'mon…c'mon,” he slurs. 

Victor snaps his hips again and again and again and then he’s still, pushing the most beautiful moan into Tyler’s mouth. 

It sounds like they just got bag skated, struggling to pull oxygen into their lungs. Victor’s slumped a little to the side and he warns Tyler before he slips free. 

“Ah geez, I don’t think I’m ever going to be the same again,” he says, voice a little hoarse. 

Victor does away with the condom and grabs a towel from the bathroom. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fucking _stunning_ , dude.”

Victor climbs back on the bed and curves around Tyler’s body. “So was it the biggest you’ve ever taken?” he asks as he wipes up the mess on Tyler’s abs. 

“You really need an ego boost after that?”

Victor drops the towel on the floor and brushes the hair off Tyler’s forehead. The tenderness almost startles him. “Will you stay?”

“Yeah,” he answers easily, stretching up for a kiss. “And it _is_ the biggest I’ve ever taken.”

Victor smiles against his lips. 

Tyler falls asleep like that, with Victor wrapped around him and his lips mapping out the shape of his face and neck and shoulders.

//

He wakes up in Victor’s arms, his face pressed against his chest as it rises and falls with every breath he takes. He gets ahead of himself, thinking about waking up like this all the time when they’re not on the road. Spending summers in this ridiculous house. He’ll have to bring Reece over and make sure she approves before that. 

Well, and probably talk to Victor. 

“What are you thinking about so early in the morning,” Victor mumbles, not even opening his eyes to see Tyler’s awake.

“Nothing,” he says. “And it’s not that early.” The classy clock on the bedside table says it's nearly noon. 

“Can I still say good morning?”

“Just barely.”

Victor leans in for a kiss. It’s delicate, a gentle brush of lips. Tyler could melt. “Good morning, darling.”

Tyler is smitten. He has lost his damn mind. But Victor is perfect, it’s not his fault. “Good morning.”

“Can I make you breakfast?”

“How can I say no?”

Victor kisses him once more before rolling out of bed. His hair is a mess and he’s not wearing a single piece of clothing. It’s a delightful view that Tyler basks in until he shuts the bathroom door. 

//

Breakfast is another fancy affair. The plates are heavy and rimmed in gold filigree. The omelets have shaved truffle and prosciutto in them. The glasses of water come in goblets. 

“This is delicious,” Tyler says with half a mouthful. 

“I’m glad.” 

He dabs his lips with the cloth napkin in his lap before speaking this time. “When can I see you again?”

Victor smiles. It really is a lovely smile, one Tyler wants to get used to seeing. “You have another business trip in a few days, yes? Perhaps after that.”

He guesses he wasn’t the only one to employ Google before their first dinner. Maybe he can get a ticket in a box for Victor to come and watch him their next home game. “We’ll have an off day the day we get back.”

“Then it’s a date.” 

Tyler eats the rest of his breakfast happier than he’s felt in a while. 


End file.
